Redmond Able To Prove He's Nowhere Near Finished

August 05, 1992|By ALAN GREENBERG; Courant Sports Columnist

BARCELONA, Spain — Those hungry hamburger, soft drink and sneaker salesmen can buy Olympic influence by the yard, but no amount of money buys Olympic spirit. It burns within, in the hearts of men, and it will burn long after this Olympic flame is extinguished.

What Derek Redmond of Great Britain achieved in defeat Monday night at the Estadi Olimpic, he could never have achieved in victory.

Worldwide fame, for one thing. After we have forgotten the names of all the medal winners, we'll remember the gut-wrenching sight of Redmond, 26, in his 400meter semifinal heat.

Have you seen the video? If you live long enough, you'll see it replayed more often than the one of your child's first birthday party. No matter what happens the rest of the way, the Redmonds have given us the most memorable pictures of the 1992 Summer Olympics.

Linford Christie of Britain, the gold medal winner in the 100 meters Saturday, whose relationship with Redmond has been marked by friction, saw his ailing teammate in the infield after the race and told him, "That's the bravest thing I've ever seen anyone do." They fell into each other's arms, crying.

It wasn't the bravest thing, of course. But it was the kind of moment that makes enemies friends, that makes stoics and cynics swoon, that reminds us all that the sin in life isn't in losing, it's in getting knocked down and not getting up. And it reminds us that in fortunate homes, a father's love for his child is stronger than any Olympic rules.

At home in Northampton, 80 miles north of London, Redmond's sister, Karen Harrison, 28, was watching her brother on the telly. She is nine months pregnant. When he phoned her after the race, she told him she was so overwhelmed by his performance that she began to have contractions.

"My sister told me I put her into labor," Redmond said Tuesday. (It turned out it Harrison did not go into labor).

His mother, he said, told him she hadn't seen him cry so much since he wanted a chopper bike when he was 6, and didn't get one.

Maybe Derek Redmond didn't make the world cry, but he sure

tugged at its heartstrings.

He didn't mean to. But there he was, 150 meters into the race, his right hamstring suddenly pulled, his teeth clenched, his face a mask of agony as the bewitched Brit sank to his right knee, his face bowed and buried in his left hand. Then, a minute later, after the rest of the field had finished, he rose unsteadily to his feet and began to hobble toward the finish line.

When suddenly, at his back, calling to him, came a burly man, big belly jouncing as he ran onto the track -- his father. Having rebuffed several walkie-talkie touting security men with an angry wave or a killer look, Jim Redmond, 49, ran out of the stands and onto the oval, determined to help his son finish his first, and perhaps last, Olympic race.

He caught up to his child and threw his right arm around his waist. With his left hand, he reached across his chest and grabbed his child's left wrist, shoulder-high, to hold him up. Together, they headed into the homestretch.

After a few more steps, the pain became too great for the son. He stopped and grabbed the back of his injured right leg. Crying, he leaned his head on his father's right shoulder. After a few seconds, composed again, he resumed hobbling. At the end of the homestretch, the father let go so his son could cross the finish line alone.

As the primal roar of the crowd rocked the stadium and filled the night, father and son left the track as one, waving aside white-clad Red Cross workers waiting in the runway with a stretcher. The greatest 100meter walk in Olympic history was over.

But the moment lives on. Here were two ordinary men doing something quite ordinary, but in extraordinary circumstances. There is nothing unusual about a father coming to the aid of his child. Every big-time sports event, not only the Olympics, has rules to keep spectators away from the athletes. But there is no rule in the world as strong as the rule of the heart: You help the people you love, and damn the consequences.

In this case, the consequences were minimal. Via the British delegation, Jim Redmond sent a letter of apology to the International Olympic Committee for venturing onto the track. On that day, the day Quincy Watts of the United States ran the fastest 400 meters in Olympic history, 43.71 seconds, Derek Redmond ran the slowest (it took him about five minutes). Because he had been helped, the space next to his name had no time. It was marked AB -- abandoned.

But Derek Redmond did not abandon his race. Anything but. Nor did he abandon his purpose, his goal, his reason for coming to these Olympic Games. And certainly, his father did not abandon him.

"We started your career together," his father told him when he joined him on the track. "We will finish this race together."

It had not been quite the career Derek Redmond dreamed. In 1985, at 19, he broke the British 400meter record. But he has had five operations on his Achilles' tendons -- and a lot of frustrating inactivity -- since. A mere 10 minutes before his firstround 400meter heat at Seoul, South Korea, in the 1988 Olympics, the pain was so much he withdrew.

This time, there would be no withdrawing. No surrender.

"If anything happened, he had to finish," Jim Redmond said. "We had an agreement."

When he knelt at the starting line Monday night, Derek said to

himself, "this one's for you Dad. For all you've done for me."

The way it turned out, Redmond's effort did a lot for everyone. In dramatic fashion, he reminded us all of our possibilities.

"I wasn't doing it for the crowd," he said. "I was doing it for myself."